Four Summers
by UniquelyMi
Summary: Four summers, four stories untold. Hermione Granger is a mystery. We know she is a bookworm, a Gryffindor, Hermione Jean Granger, but not even her parents' names. Being a Muggleborn is never easy. How does Hermione cope with it, from the day she learned she was a witch to the day she left for her last school year without the shadow of Voldemort over her?
1. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: My feeble attempt at showing Hermione Granger should not and is not meant to be taken as J.K. Rowling's writing. I'm not even trying to imitate her writing.**

**First Impressions**

Thud. The ball bounced off the backboard into a puddle of muddy water, where it splattered onto fraying blue jeans. Hermione Granger grimaced as she picked up the basketball, her fingers slipping on the muddy ball. She concentrated once more on the basket, a hole already punched in it from repeated use, bent her knees, made the "window" the books said she was supposed to, and leaped up, flinging the ball at the basket. Her hands slipped as she threw and the ball missed, clanging on the metal bar the basket was attached to, and bounced off at an angle into the mud. Hermione scowled, rolled up her jeans, though it was far too late for this, and waded into the grass to retrieve the ball.

An uninformed observer might assume that Hermione Granger was a dedicated basketball lover, practicing even though it was still drizzling slightly from the thunderstorm that had just occurred and puddles were scattered haphazardly around the black court, white lines that denoted half court and other such places barely visible. The observer could not have been more incorrect. Hermione Granger hated nothing so much as basketball. In fact, she detested it. But even worse was the bullying she got during Physical Education classes and worst of all, the note her teacher had sent home when Hermione had refused to participate. Hermione winced at the memory of the scolding she'd gotten from her parents, who later brought her a stack of books pertaining to basketball and ordered her to start playing it.

Hermione gritted her teeth and threw the ball again, wiping her hand on her jeans in distaste. She contemplated giving up and going home but rejected the idea immediately. Hermione Granger did not _quit_. That suggested failure, and failure was unacceptable. The ball bounced off the rim and Hermione was forced to run after it. At least it didn't land in any mud puddles this time. Walking back she turned the ball around in her hands, tossing it up and down to limit contact with it. Maybe if she tried playing in nice weather she would like basketball a bit more, or at least hate it less. But everyone else in her area swarmed to the basketball court in fair weather, and they would certainly shove her aside. So she was limited to the rainy days.

Throw. Bounce. Run. Hermione threw mindlessly, her throws becoming increasingly erratic. She stopped for a moment, stooping over, panting even in the cool air. Sweat trickled down her back and a cramp was forming in her side. Nevertheless she grimaced, aimed, and threw. The ball came annoyingly close to the basket and Hermione let out a scream of frustration before whipping her head around to see if anyone had heard. But there was no sound but the wind rushing through the trees and nothing but the grass and fence and plants. Hermione continued throwing. The next one went wide and she trotted after it, before getting one off the backboard. The ball began drying and Hermione wiped off a bit of dirt then bent down to throw.

The ball went too far, rolling into the grass before it came to a stop. Hermione gritted her teeth as she brought it back and checked her watch. She sighed; she might as well go home. The rain was coming down harder. But she had to do this first. Hermione glanced around furtively to see if anyone was looking, before cautiously taking the ball in her hands. She bent her knees and held the ball before her automatically, and then _willed_ it to go in, springing up as she threw.

The ball leapt into the basket almost as if on its own accord, not even brushing the sides of the basket. It was a perfect throw.

Hermione smiled brightly, savoring the feeling of success, happy despite the increasing rainfall. Then, as always, another thought made her droop. Why could she do this? It wasn't natural, that much she knew. People who routinely missed shots didn't just randomly make one. She didn't even have to stand in the same spot every time. It was a certain…feeling she was looking for. If she didn't know better, she would have called it magic. Ball in hand, Hermione trudged down the hill that separated the basketball court from the houses, pondering the question.

She was about to get the answer.

"Hermione! Hermione Granger!"

Hermione heard her mother's call and started running. Jane Granger stood across the street from their house, hands on hip.

Finally Hermione skidded to a stop in front of her mum, observing anxiously the terse expression on her face. "What's wrong, mum?"

Hermione's mum looked at her disheveled appearance and took in her sweaty face, muddy jeans, soaked shoes, and wild hair. Without a word she marched Hermione across the grass to the side entrance of their house and pushed open the glass sliding door. Hermione took off her mud-caked shoes and stepped into the dark room, creeping up the staircase. Jane followed her, closing the door to Hermione's room when they were both in there and snapping on the lights.

"Wear your good clothes," she ordered. "There's someone here about school."

Hermione's heart leapt as she stared at her mother. "I didn't do anything, I swear -"

"She'll explain," Jane said tersely. She looked at Hermione's hair, eyes narrowed. "Try to tame that, will you?"

Hermione nodded and Jane left, leaving Hermione to quickly wipe down, make her hair look presentable, and put on neat clothing.

Casting a furtive look at the mirror to check if she was neat, Hermione pattered softly down the staircase and came to an abrupt stop in front of the living room, where voices could be heard. She pushed open the door quietly and stepped in.

The living room was warmly lit. This was where all of the guests were taken. As many of them were coming to ask about Hermione's parent's dentistry, there were the usual pictures and posters people found in a dentist's office. But it was a comfortable, though elegant room, the TV sitting on a long brown cabinet, blocking the fireplace, two sofas positioned across from it. And there were bookshelves, plenty of bookshelves lining the spacious room.

Robert and Jane Granger were sitting on one sofa, sipping from mugs of tea. On the other sat a stern looking woman, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing a strange sort of cloak. Her gaze rested on Hermione, who suddenly didn't feel quite so neat.

Hermione's mum rose. "Hermione, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall. Professor, this is my daughter Hermione Granger."

Hermione walked forwards shyly, offering a hand to Professor - McGonagall, wasn't it? "How do you do?"

Professor McGonagall shook it. "Well, thank you." Without waiting for a response she motioned for Hermione to sit down and began. "I assume you are wondering why I am here."

Hermione nodded shortly.

"You have been accepted into Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry," the professor said bluntly.

Hermione let out a slight shriek, then clamped her hand over her mouth reflexively. "Sorry?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Hermione Granger, you are a witch."

Hermione was shaking her head, unwilling to comprehend but reluctant to disbelieve the word of an authority figure. "No. No. No!" She turned to her parents. "Mum, Dad, surely you don't…?" she pleaded.

Robert's gaze was steady as he looked at Professor McGonagall. He grasped Hermione's hand tightly. "Excuse me?" he asked tightly.

Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand suddenly, pointing it at the table. Hermione and her parents jumped back instinctively from it and sat tensely, eyes never leaving the pointed wooden stick. A wave later, a rolled up piece of parchment floated over Hermione, who took it nervously after receiving a nod from her mum. She unrolled it to reveal an acceptance letter.

A thousand thoughts ran through Hermione's brain, but one thought pushed itself to the front. The basketball…

This would explain a lot. Those mysterious incidents that had completely isolated Hermione and caused her best friend, Katie, to desert her, why Hermione was so different from all the other children, and more. For a moment Hermione's heart twisted and she didn't want this, not after it had wrecked her life this way, but then she glanced at the letter again. Slowly she realized that she would be taken away, to a world where she belonged, where others would be like her. She would go to school with people like her. She would no longer be different. Unless…

"This isn't a prank, is it?" Hermione blurted out anxiously.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in disapproval, as if she knew all about pranks. Then again, she probably did.

"I am not one for pranks, Miss Granger," she said sternly. "And if, as you seem to, you wish to accept, you will call me Professor."

Hermione liked the professor already, especially her authority. She blushed. "I'm sorry, Professor, it's just -"

"I understand," Professor McGonagall said firmly.

"Hermione," Jane said tensely.

"Mum," Hermione said softly, "I believe her. It - it makes sense, doesn't it? That time the window exploded, the way my hair tames itself when I really need it too…" she hesitated before adding in a barely discernible voice "the way I can make a basket when I concentrate."

"You can control your accidental magic?" Professor McGonagall asked her sharply, but with a certain softness as well. Looking at her closely Hermione could see her eyes turn sad and slightly distant.

"Is that - different, Professor?" Hermione asked tentatively. She didn't want to be different, not _again_.

Professor McGonagall surveyed her with a new interest. "Well, it's called accidental for a reason, but it's common enough. I had another student who you remind me of…but never mind."

Hermione relaxed against the cushions of the sofa.

Her parents weren't convinced yet, however. "Hermione," Robert said gently, "you're intelligent, and I trust you, but are you sure? Think very carefully and don't let your trust for authority or wish to believe get in your way. Not," he added hastily, "that I don't trust you, Professor, it's just -"

"I understand," Professor McGonagall nodded. She surveyed them in thought.

Hermione concentrated on the pillow next to Professor McGonagall, remembered the feeling of magic, and then _willed_ it to come. When it flew in her arms she felt that familiar glow of satisfaction, this time tempered by nervousness. She looked back at her parents. They stared at her with open-mouthed shock.

"Well, I suppose that settles it," Jane finally said. "Can you explain the technicalities?"

Professor McGonagall said briskly, "The castle is located in Scotland. It is protected with wards, spells, and nature from outsiders; therefore, you would not be able to see it. It houses 600, though not that many actually go to it…" She looked away briefly.

"Did you have a war then too, Professor?" Hermione blurted out.

Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a small smile, giving Hermione the impression that a rare compliment was being bestowed to her. "Very good. I would award you house points, except you haven't been Sorted yet. Which brings me to my next point. At Hogwarts, we divide the students into four houses. Bravery goes to Gryffindor, Intelligence to Ravenclaw, Loyalty to Hufflepuff, and Cunning to Slytherin."

Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall, realizing belatedly that she was the Deputy Headmistress. The question of Houses sent her mind whirling. She knew that Ravenclaw would be the most likely House for her, but…

"What House are you in, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall answered, taking Hermione slightly aback. She had half-expected her to be a Ravenclaw. Then again, wizards were likely to be different from Muggles. And if Gryffindors were all similar to Professor McGonagall, she definitely wanted to be a Gryffindor. "As a first year, you will take Potions, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and History of Magic," she continued. "I teach Transfiguration, and am the Head of Gryffindor House."

Potions, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, Astronomy, and History, Hermione memorized. Well, the names were fairly self-explanatory. Her estimation of Professor McGonagall rose another few notches upon hearing what she taught and all her duties. Hermione had already decided that Transfiguration sounded like the most difficult class. How did Professor McGonagall _handle_ everything?

Hermione's mother spoke up. "What about tuition, supplies, etc?"

"15000 euros every year, plus however much supplies cost," Professor McGonagall replied, while handing Hermione the supplies list. "Along with whatever the teach sees fit, you take an end of the year exam each year. In fifth year you take the OWLs and in seventh the NEWTs. They're necessary for getting a job in the wizarding community."

"Like O-Levels and A-Levels, then?" Jane inquired.

Professor McGonagall nodded.

Robert, reading over his daughter's shoulder, chuckled. "You actually wear pointed hats, black robes, and fly on broomsticks?"

"The uniform designer was inspired by Muggles, as you can find out in Hogwarts, A History," Professor McGonagall replied. "Muggles are what we wizards call non-magical people. Hermione would be a Muggleborn as both her parents are non-magic."

Hermione stiffened. "You mean there are people raised in the wizard world?" she asked, before realizing what a stupid question that was. Of course there were, she thought in horror. And she would be an outsider. That would not do. "What was that book you mentioned, Professor?"

"Hogwarts, A History," Professor McGonagall answered. She summoned it with a wave of her wand and handed it to Hermione, who opened it eagerly.

Jane put a warning hand on Hermione's arm. "Hermione, pay attention." To Professor McGonagall she asked, "Where can we get supplies and how do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Very good questions," Professor McGonagall said approvingly. "There is a place called Diagon Alley for supplies which I can take you to later. To get to Hogwarts go to King's Cross Station. Between Platform 9 and Platform 10 there is a dividing barrier. Go through it."

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, looking flabbergasted. Hermione almost giggled at the strange look on her normally unruffled mother's face.

"Go through it," Professor McGonagall repeated professionally. "It's magic. On another note, would you like to go to Diagon Alley now or would you like me to return for you some other time?"

"Now, if you please," Robert said firmly.

As they stood up to leave, Hermione whispered to her mum, "I want to be _her_ when I grow up!"

As soon as they got back from Diagon Alley, Hermione rushed to her room, dropping her supplies carefully on her floor and began to organize them. Her schoolbooks went on the same shelf as her textbooks, her potions materials carefully tucked in a basket and placed next to her books, general supplies set up where appropriate, clothes in the closet, her hat on a footstool, and her extracurricular stacked in a neat pile and placed next to her window seat, where she sat, the way she always had, but for one thing. Her newly bought wand was in hand.

Hermione settled in and then frowned, remembering that she had put her Year 1 Standard Book of Spells on the shelf though she wanted to look through. Suddenly she looked at her wand and smiled sheepishly, even though nobody had seen. She lifted a hand, remembered the feeling of magic, and willed the book to come, expecting the rush of pleasure she always got from achieving magic.

Nothing happened.

Frustrated, Hermione tried again, once, twice, until a brainwave hit. Now that she was a witch with a wand, she had to use one. Brightening, Hermione pointed her wand at the book, waved it the way Professor McGonagall had, focusing on it.

The book rushed into her left hand. She fumbled it and dropped it, but despite that, still felt giddy with success. She lay the book open on her lap, leaned forward, and began reading.

Suddenly she stopped in shock. Frowning, she reread the sentence.

_The two elements of spell casting are the wand movement and incantation._

But…but…but… Hermione panicked for a few seconds. She couldn't possibly be different _again_, could she? That would be completely unfair. It took her a few moments to remember that Professor McGonagall hadn't said an incantation and managed to do magic. So maybe…the book was outdated. Yes, that must have been the problem. Satisfied, Hermione read on.

When she finished the introduction, instead of reading the spells, she skipped to the back. Funnily enough there wasn't an index. Brows furrowed, Hermione flipped the pages instead to find the spell she wanted.

The summoning spell wasn't in the book.

Hermione went through again, more carefully this time. Surely she had just missed it. After all, it couldn't be possible that an untrained witch could perform a spell that wasn't in the first year textbook.

The summoning spell wasn't in the book.

Deep breaths, Hermione told herself. Maybe it was in the second year textbook and she had gotten lucky. She waved her wand to summon it again.

Nothing happened.

Instead of feeling disappointed at the absence of the rush she normally got from magic, Hermione was relieved. Maybe it was just that her accidental magic hadn't completely left yet, then. Yes, that was probably it. Smiling, Hermione browsed the textbook for a simple but useful spell to try. She hit on the charm to light up her wand, _lumos_, the countercharm to which was _nox_.

"Lumos," Hermione said in a firm voice, preforming the corresponding wand motion perfectly. Old habits made her enter her "magic" mindset, willing the wand to light up, but Hermione knew that if it worked, it would be because she performed the charm correctly.

Her wand lit up.

Hermione beamed with success and then delved into her book.

Almost an hour later her mum opened the door. "Ten minutes left," she warned.

Hermione put down her book sadly. She had a time limit of one hour to read, and she had wanted to do something else.

Reaching over for a notepad and a pen, Hermione nibbled her finger as she thought about what she was going to write. Hermione, a very organized girl, was fond of to-do lists. She was so fond, in fact, that she had a notepad just for them. Hermione flipped to a new page and labeled it First Year in big black letters, then underlined it. Beneath it she began her list.

First Year

_Get sorted into Gryffindor_

_Make friends_

_Be the top of the class_

_Get 100% on all exams_

_Stop being an outsider_

_Improve in at least one way_

_Find a place where you belong_

_Do something good_

Hermione grinned. It was going to be a great year!

**So, how did it go? Ideas and criticism are highly appreciated!**


	2. Changes

**Changes**

She couldn't help it. The sight of her parents made Hermione's eyes mist over, even while her stomach wrenched. How could she face them and lie outright about her time at Hogwarts? But she couldn't tell the truth. They would take her out of Hogwarts, and that could not happen.

Her father, Robert Granger, pulled her in a warm hug, something her parents rarely did in public, and Hermione's worries melted away as she relaxed in her father's arms.

"I missed you, Dad," Hermione said in a choked voice.

"So did I, little otter," her father murmured, using his old pet name for her.

When he let go, Jane opened her arms, looking at her with tears in her eyes. Hermione hugged her mother tightly before letting them lead her back to the car. Robert sat down in the driver's seat, but Jane unexpectedly sat down next to Hermione in the back.

"So, anything new?" Robert asked in a joking tone.

Hermione didn't need another cue. Eagerly she said, "Oh yes, ever so much! I made two friends. You know that Harry Potter I mentioned? He came to Hogwarts _this year_ and we're best friends! My other friend is Ronald Weasley. He's a bit lazy and can be insensitive, but he can play chess like no other! He even beat -"

Here Hermione faltered.

"Beat who?" Jane asked in a gentle tone.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said rather lamely. Her eyes grew sad as she remembered Ron getting crashed to the ground. She could suddenly hear her shriek, the clangs of the pieces…

"Hermione?" Jane asked in concern.

Hermione blinked back to reality. "Oh, yes, Ron!" she said, regaining her excited tone. "He's lazy, but he's really good hearted and loyal and sacrificing, and I do believe I like him after all. As for Harry, well, Harry's a bit insecure, and he really doesn't have any idea of his own worth."

"What about girls?" Robert asked in a strange voice.

"Oh, I don't like the girls in my dormitory," Hermione said dismissively. "They're such gossips, and so empty-headed."

"Your only friends are two boys?" Robert asked in that same strange voice.

Jane laughed, sounding oddly like - like a romantic? "Oh, Robert, don't be like that. I'm sure the boys are good for her, and look, she's happy."

She was indeed. Hermione's eyes shone, and her cheeks were flushed red. She held her head with far more confidence than the girl who sat, dejected, last year.

"Yes, well, get to know more girls, won't you?" Robert asked, sounding more like himself.

"Well, there's the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Hermione said. "I like all of those girls, though since most of them are older than me, we don't socialize much. And some of the Ravenclaw girls seem nice, though we haven't talked much."

"What about Ron then?" Jane asked curiously. "Does he have any siblings?"

"Five brothers and a sister," Hermione answered promptly, hiding a smile.

Robert groaned and Jane and Hermione laughed. "Do you know them?" Jane asked again.

"Bill and Charlie have both graduated, and Ginny, the youngest, hasn't started yet, but I know Percy, one of the prefects. I used to like him, and he told me a lot about the classes, but I've come to see that he can be a little annoying and _too_ rule abiding."

Jane and Robert exchanged shocked glances in the mirror.

Happily ignorant of this, Hermione continued, "But Fred and George are both twins, both born on April Fools Day, and both great pranksters. They sometimes call themselves Gred and Forge and even their mother can't always tell them apart."

"Oh, I pity the mother," Jane sympathized. "Seven children!"

"What have you learned, then?" Robert asked, steering the conversation into safer waters.

"Oh, ever so much!" Hermione said. "I can turn a teapot into a tortoise, and I can make blue flames, and I can levitate things, and so much more! And did you know that Alchemy is a real thing here? Flamel actually did make the Philosopher's Stone and all that, though it was recently destroyed. I couldn't believe that it was actually _the_ Nicholas Flamel when I saw him mentioned. I thought it was someone else!" Hermione risked a mention of their adventures. "In fact, Harry and Ron and I were involved in the whole Philosopher's Stone thing."

"Really?" Robert asked sharply.

"It was perfectly safe," Hermione flat out lied, "Dad, truly. And I'm much more flexible about rules now, and I have to say, it is a relief."

"You don't break them, do you?"

_Oh, just now and then_, Hermione thought drily. Out loud she said, "Oh, not really, I've only received one detention and earned hundreds more points than I've lost. But when others do I can look aside if it's just minor."

"I do hope you won't break them in the future," Jane said in a warning tone.

"Of course not," Hermione said, ignoring the wrench of her stomach that indicated an active conscience.

Fortunately she was saved from further questioning when the car pulled up to her house.

"Well, here we are," Robert said. "Missed the house?"

"Oh, ever so much!" Hermione replied, a wide smile on her face as she saw her house again for the first time in almost 6 months.

Hermione sat on her bed in her familiar room. It was just as she remembered it, neat and organized and oh-so-different from the chaotic Gryffindor common room. Somehow it felt a little _too_ neat.

Looking at her stand, she saw the single thing that was out of place. Suddenly she realized it was something she had forgotten.

"My to-do list!" Hermione exclaimed out loud. She had thought she'd lost it.

Hermione eagerly took it and, ignoring all the first pages, flipped to the last.

First Year

_Get sorted into Gryffindor_

_Make friends_

_Be the top of the class_

_Get 100% on all exams_

_Stop being an outsider_

_Improve in at least one way_

_Find a place where you belong_

_Do something good_

Well, she had certainly achieved all that, hadn't she? She was currently a proud Gryffindor, wearing red and gold with confidence. She had two loyal friends, Harry and Ron. She was the top in every class except for Flying, which wasn't really a class anyways. She had received 100% or more in every final exam and 100s on most homework. Despite being a muggleborn, she was not an outsider and had, truly, stopped being an outsider the moment Harry and Ron befriended her. She had improved in more than one way, though she wouldn't have seen it as an improvement a year ago. She had a place where she belonged - beside Harry and Ron, helping the two clueless boys. And she _had_ done something good, though she was hesitant to admit it. Though Harry had been the one to actually save the stone, he couldn't have done it without her, could he? No, Hermione decided, she had done something good.

Hermione checked off each point with a satisfied feeling, then leaned back and began to consider what she had done, analyzing it like she would an essay. She had gotten good grades, found a place where she fit in, and helped save the Philosopher's stone.

_But_ she had also earned a reputation as the Gryffindor goody-goody and know-it-all, which, she admitted, might serve her well, and also gave her an identity outside of Harry and Ron. And she could not ignore the fact that Professor Snape loathed her; loathed her nearly as much as Harry. If Hermione had been more perceptive, she might have concluded that it was because she was destroying Professor Snape's preconceived notions of Gryffindors. (Lily excluded, of course) Or maybe gone deeper and considered that she reminded Professor Snape of someone, much like Harry did. But Hermione was still a twelve year old with little experience. All she knew was that a Professor who she respected (though she would never admit it to Harry or Ron) hated her, and furthermore, seemed to hate her for every perfect potion she brewed and every correct answer she gave in class. And the only answer Hermione had in response to a teacher's dislike was to work harder until the teacher _had_ to be impressed.

Then, while they had figured out it was Nicholas Flamel, she should have realized that much quicker. Much _much_ quicker. He was famous! In the future, Hermione would have to think bigger, and not disregard myths so much, historically inaccurate though they could be. And there was the little thing where she had panicked and FORGOTTEN SHE WAS A WITCH. The thought of it made Hermione's cheeks turn red with shame. She'd been pretty active with the fire when she was trying to burn Professor Snape. Thank Merlin she had knocked over Quirrell - otherwise…

Hermione thrust the thought out of her head, not liking the wrench her stomach gave. Everything had turned out fine, hadn't it? There was no use crying over spilled potion. Hermione chuckled as she realized that she was using wizard sayings already.

Looking up at her perfect room, not a single thing misplaced, Hermione shuddered. It was funny - she had spent days cringing from the disorder and wishing she was back in her neat house, but now that she was…

Standing up resolutely, Hermione started by throwing back the blankets. Deciding that that was going too far, Hermione pulled it back, but didn't smooth them. She made the pillows crooked, then moved on to her desk.

For the next 20 minutes Hermione happily disorganized her room while lovely smells wafted up from below. Just as she stepped back to admire the effect, Hermione heard a shout. "Hermione! Time to eat!"

"Coming, Mum!" she shouted back. The thought of her mum's reaction to her room made Hermione wince, but she turned her back and pattered down the staircase, closing the door as she went. Though she was by no means messy, she could not return to the rule-abiding, neatly organized world in which she had lived so long, not after tasting chaos and rebellion.

"Hermione, dear, please set the -" Jane said absently.

"I know, Mum," Hermione interrupted, already setting down plates.

Jane opened her mouth to reprimand Hermione, blinked suddenly, and closed it again.

Dinner was a noisy affair. There was baked fish and boiled vegetables and milk (Hermione was delighted, not having been able to drink milk at Hogwarts) and roast chicken. The latter was Hermione's favorite, but she didn't pay attention to what she was eating as she chattered away about school and Harry and Ron. She accidentally made a reference to the troll incident, but her parents didn't notice it, and Hermione eventually concluded that they didn't know about it. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or upset about that.

For the special occasion they had dessert, something Hermione's dentist parents rarely made. They had fruit, of course, but not legitimate dessert. The store bought cake was not quite as good as Hogwart's desserts, but it was Muggle cake, baked in ovens without the assistance of magic.

It was good.

Cake filling her belly, Hermione worked up the courage to ask her mother, "Mum, what's up? You're…_mellow_."

Jane blinked. She blinked again, and then raised a tissue to her eyes. Robert put an arm around her and smiled warmly at Hermione.

"We missed you, otter," he repeated. "Life isn't the same without you."

Hermione had to look away to keep from crying, and suddenly burst out, "I like it this way. And I'm so glad to be home. Everything seems to taste better here."

This made Jane and Robert laugh, and broke a bit of the emotional moment. While loving and caring, Hermione's parents had never really given Hermione choices. They had been both strict disciplinarians, and yet…

Maybe it was that they were seeing her as an adult now. Whatever it was, Hermione liked it.

It was a few weeks in when an owl flew into Hermione's room. Hermione shrieked, before realizing that it was probably one of her friends corresponding. Since the owl obviously wasn't Hedwig, Hermione could only assume it was Ron. Eagerly she took the letter from the owl and opened it.

Sure enough, it said:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hi! It's Ron! How are you? Funny how much I miss you. Mum nags at me to do my homework, and I can always hear your voice telling me to do the same. Yes, before you ask, I have done it, but I've spent more time playing Quidditch. Usually I play Keeper. But really, why do we need to learn about witch burnings and all that rot? It's bloody boring._

_Anyways, I don't have much to say. I'm borrowing Percy's owl, Hermes, and it'll make another stop at Harry's place, in case you want to send a letter to Harry. Hope the Muggles are treating him alright, don't you_

_Your mate,_

_Ron_

Hermione laughed over the letter. It was so typically Ron, though she frowned over his dismissive outlook on witch burnings and prepared to pen an indignant response to that. She folded his letter, and, on a sudden impulse, put it under her pillow. Then she took out her prewritten letters to Harry and Ron, having solved her dilemma on how to get them to her friends. Quickly adding a post script on Ron's, Hermione attached them to Hermes and the owl took off.

The mention of Quidditch reminded Hermione of something. Going over to her closet, Hermione took out a basketball. She smiled, remembering the last time she had played. Suddenly she looked out the window. The day was bright and sunny, but for some reason, she had an urge to go out. Maybe, possibly, she could do better now. At any rate, she needed the exercise. Hermione straightened resolutely and changed, tying back her hair in a ponytail.

"I'm going out, Mum!" Hermione called, peeking in the kitchen.

Jane waved back one floury hand.

The past few weeks Hermione and her parents had rediscovered one another. It felt a bit strange, since Hermione didn't quite know what to expect, but neither did she like her life to be so perfectly ordered. Jane had, surprisingly, said nothing in response to Hermione's less neat room, despite all her concerns, and Hermione even overheard her mum telling her dad that she was relieved that Hermione was acting a bit more like a child now. Hermione was also gradually allowed more freedom. Now, several weeks later, Hermione couldn't imagine how she had survived the past few years.

The day was nice and sunny. The wind blew, not too hard, but enough to keep it from being stifling hot. Hermione walked over the slightly damp grass, the only remnants of last night's rain.

There were, as expected, a lot of people playing basketball, but one basket was empty on the large court. Hermione ignored everyone else and headed for that basket, and then threw.

The ball missed. Hermione felt her stomach sink a bit, but she retrieved the ball and tried again.

"Look, it's the beaver!" a malicious voice called to snickers.

"Where's your mama, beaver?" another boy yelled at her, throwing his basketball at Hermione.

Hermione dodged the ball and kept throwing, trying to ignore them. Her arms shook and she fumbled. She'd forgotten what it was like to be teased, not after winning so many points and helping to save the Stone.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and Hermione was spun around, a sneering face coming up close to her. Later Hermione would be struck by how similar the Death Eaters were to these kids. "You don't belong here, bookworm," he spat.

Hermione retreated, twisting out of his grip. Her fist came up, almost against her will, as it had in so many of her daydreams. And then it went back down. She couldn't. She couldn't hit someone.

Laughter sounded all around her, the kids having formed a U around her. "Scared?" someone mocked.

"Look at those shoes. Who'd you steal them from?" someone mocked.

"Which dump of a school did you get transferred to? Mummy too poor to afford it here?"

Hermione turned her back, tears threatening to come out. She threw the basketball as hard as she could at the basket, wishing she was of age. It bounced off the rim and she caught it, throwing it again.

"You can't m-make it!" someone yelled in a nasal voice, managing to sound mean through a stammer. "S-stop trying!"

Hermione considered making fun of the other girl's stammer but decided against it. It didn't matter anyways.

"You can't m-make it!" another voice imitated mockingly.

Everyone stopped.

Hermione turned slowly to see the source of the voice. Her heart leaped as she saw…but it couldn't be…Katie?

"Where'd you learn to speak, I-can't-do-long-division?" Katie yelled at the girl. "Who'd you steal that brain from?"

"Why're you supporting her?" someone demanded. "You homo?"

There was laughter, but not as loud.

Katie looked with disgust around her. "You all know that she probably got into some private school for special people, she's so smart. She'll go on to college and make her parents proud, and your parents? They'll wish you weren't born."

Without turning around Katie said, "Come on, Hermione. Don't associate with these people."

Mutely Hermione followed her ex-friend down the hill. As she walked, the ring around her parted to let them go out, and Hermione received a few apologetic looks from the people who didn't care. Didn't care enough to take her side, but not enough to insult her either. It struck Hermione how similar Hogwarts was, really, to the Muggle world. There were bullies in both. Their underlying motives were the same. And you dealt with bullies the same way in both.

When they were halfway down the hill, Hermione asked suddenly, "Why did you help me?"

Katie swallowed. "I'm sorry, Hermione, for deserting you. Really, I am. This first year of secondary school…hasn't been easy, and I've begun to realize what you went through. And…will you forgive me? Can we be friends again?"

Hermione was going to say yes. The word rose up and was at her lips. But suddenly she remembered Harry, who had saved her from the troll for no reason other than that she was in trouble, and Ron, who had helped him and befriended her, even though he hadn't liked her, because of Harry. And Hagrid, who expected nothing from you in his friendship but tried to help them.

Those were true friends. And Hermione knew what to say.

"No," she said. "I'm sorry Katie, and of course I'll forgive you, but we've both changed so much, and since we go to different schools, it would be difficult." She smiled at Katie and squeezed her hand. "Can we stay in touch, though?"

Katie sighed, but Hermione say understanding in the girl's eyes. "You're right, of course." She cracked a smile. "You always were before." They were reaching Hermione's house. "See you! I hope you have fun at your school."

_Oh, I will_, Hermione thought as she waved and then entered her house. _I certainly will._

After all, when you were best friends with Harry, life was never dull!

**Ach...Hermione feels so OOC. She's so much harder to write than I'd thought she'd be.**


	3. Secrets

**Secrets**

Hermione looked into her parents' faces and saw they didn't know.

She hadn't been sure whether to be mad or relieved last year, but this year she had no doubts.

Hermione Granger was furious.

They had the usual routine - they met, hugged, and then went into the car. Hermione stayed silent this year, her brow furrowed, unusual for her.

Her father finally broke the silence. "What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth - and then closed it. Like it or not, this may be a blessing. The troll incident might not have been cause to take her out of Hogwarts, but being petrified definitely was. Besides, if she mentioned this, she might as well mention everything else, and they would definitely remove her.

Instead Hermione said, "Oh, well - I broke a lot of rules this year." She said the last in a rush, her words blurring together. She had to keep amazement and amusement at her improved lying abilities.

Her parents both broke into laughter. "Oh Hermione," Jane said finally. "We're not mad. We just hope you'd used your judgment."

"Just curious," Robert said, "But what rules did you break?"

Hermione blushed. "Well…I tricked my teacher into letting me borrow a book in the Restricted Section - though that was his own fault for being so stupid," she added defensively, "and then Harry, Ron, but mostly me brewed a potion in that book, stole ingredients from my Potions professor to brew said potion, and then drank said potion. But it was a very difficult potion that I shouldn't have been able to brew," she added as if that made it all better.

It was a mark of how much her parents had changed that Robert said, "I'm proud of you, Hermione, what potion?" and Jane didn't object.

"Polyjuice," Hermione answered, relieved. "It allows you to take on the appearance of another person." She scrunched up her nose. "It tasted disgusting."

Robert and Jane both laughed at that comment and changed the subject.

"So, how are Harry and Ron?" Jane asked.

"The same," Hermione said. "Clueless, loyal, and brave." It wasn't like they could change from that, after all.

"Is Harry alright with those relatives of his?" Robert asked, a touch anxiously. "Any person who can put bars over a boy's room…"

"They make him work too hard," Hermione said disapprovingly. "And they're scared of him because he's a wizard."

"You'd think they would be nice to him," Jane commented. "So that when he comes of age he won't exact revenge."

Hermione shrugged. "It's not just wizards that don't have an ounce of logic."

"No, it's common sense that they lack," Robert disagreed. "I'm surprised Harry's turned out as well as you say he has."

"Harry's wonderful," Hermione said with a smile. "But he has a low sense of self-worth, refrains from asking teachers from help, doesn't work hard in class, and has this saving people thing that we're trying to get rid of, for fear that he'll kill himself before he even gets of age."

"Hermione, has it occurred to you that he simply can't do things as quickly?" Jane suggested.

"That's not it," Hermione refuted. "He can do whatever he wants when he sets his mind to it. I bet he could even get the…Patronus spell, which is extremely difficult, by the way, if he wanted to in less than a year."

"Then he just doesn't have the determination that you do," Robert said simply.

Hermione shrugged. "I hope he manages to finish his homework," she said anxiously. "Last year the Dursleys locked up his school things and he had to pick the lock to steal his homework back, or he wouldn't have finished it. And he has to do it in the dead of the night in bed, trying not to get ink on his sheets." Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"Well, don't do all your homework too quickly," Robert told Hermione. "We're going to France this year, and I'm sure we can find some wizarding culture to show you."

Hermione's eyes lit up happily. "When?"

"We'll spend about 6 weeks there," Jane answered smiling. "So we'll be in France until August."

Hermione grinned, which widened as they pulled into sight of the home. "Welcome home, Hermione Granger," she whispered. "Welcome home."

* * *

Hermione sat at her desk and was currently completely ignoring her father's advice to not do her homework too quickly. She simply couldn't resist. Now she was working at her History of Magic essay, which she had put off to last, hoping she could keep herself from finishing it. But now she couldn't.

She dotted her last sentence with the usual sense of accomplishment she received by finishing a well-written essay and then began hiding her school supplies. Her extended family was coming over for dinner that night, something Hermione was dreading. She had been so glad when they'd cancelled the past two years, not only because she would be forced to conceal her true schooling from them. Her cousins loved picking on the know-it-all, though she didn't know quite so much about Muggle subjects anymore. There was just too much work in the Wizarding world and she was more than eager to cut ties to the Muggle world.

Just as she was closing her trunk and putting it inside the laundry basket, hidden beneath her clothes, the doorbell rang. Hermione was already springing up, a chemistry (her worst subject) book in hand, as the last syllables of her name came up the staircase in her aunt's loud voice. Hermione could only imagine what they were talking about.

"Ah, there she is!" Aunt Delia said. "Give your Aunt Delia a hug, Mione dear. Oh look, you've grown so much." She awkwardly hugged Hermione, who forced a smile. "No no dear, drop the book."

Hermione reluctantly handed the book to her mum, not wanting it to get hurt.

Aunt Delia let go of Hermione and looked at her, making Hermione involuntarily shrink into herself. She fought the impulse and stood straighter, looking into Aunt Delia's eyes.

The fake smile lessened a bit, and then Aunt Delia let go of Hermione, to her great relief. "Still as bossy as ever, I see," Hermione's Aunt said disapprovingly. "Taller, though. Tame that hair, will you?"

Hermione sighed. She hoped Harry's relatives weren't much worse than hers.

"What are you making that noise for?" Aunt Delia asked. "Want to get to your book, do you? Jane, if I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times, that girl needs to get out of her books. Who'll want a know-it-all like her when she grows up?"

Hermione felt her father's hands on her shoulders as he said firmly, "We want Hermione to pursue her own interests and live her own life."

Aunt Delia snorted. "Live her own life. She'll die an old maid, I tell you. Jane, why do you allow this nonsense? What book was she reading just now - something to do with this new-fangled evolution thing, was it?"

Hermione coughed. "It was chemistry, actually. And theories on evolution have been present since before -"

"New-fangled evolution thing, I say!" Aunt Delia shouted. "Jane, get a grip on your girl before she goes to ruin!"

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Aunt Delia swept her way to the dining room, followed by her husband, Richard Gordon, and her two smirking children.

Hermione exchanged looks with her parents, who both had red spots on their cheeks.

"Hermione, ignore them," Jane said calmly. "You'll grow up to do something great in your world and will never have to see them again, I promise."

_It's more likely than you know_, Hermione thought. She sighed. "I just don't like her views and -"

"Understandable," Robert said. "Think about Harry - at least you don't have to endure this all the time."

Hermione winced at the thought as they entered the dining room.

By the time everyone came, Hermione had gone through different variations of that 5 times with both Aunts and Uncles. Finally Aunt Chloe, her favorite and least seen Aunt (ironically the only one without children) arrived.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you," Aunt Chloe said, kissing her on the cheek. "Is that chemistry?"

Hermione nodded. "My worst subject," she whispered.

Aunt Chloe smiled. "Nobody's going to ask you questions on it anyways, so you don't need a quick review."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, come in, the others are waiting."

"Oh, are they all here already?" Aunt Chloe asked. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Hermione said genially, leading her to the dining room.

"Ah, Chloe," said Aunt Delia. "Finally here."

"My apologies, Delia," said Aunt Chloe. "It took longer than I expected to arrive."

Hermione took a seat between her parents while Aunt Chloe chose the seat across from her. The others were snacking and talking.

"So, what school did you say you were going to?" asked Uncle Richard, leaning forward.

"Hogwarts," Hermione said impishly. "We learn how to make light come out of wooden sticks."

Several of her cousins snickered. Aunt Delia scowled. "If you didn't want to tell us, you could have said so, girl."

"Do you like it?" Aunt Chloe asked.

"Other than the fact that I nearly died three times, very well," Hermione replied, unable to stop the grin.

"Hermione," her mother warned.

"Sorry, Mum," Hermione said, subsiding.

Fortunately, her last answer deterred anyone else from questioning her about the school and the conversation turned to trivial things as Jane got up to serve dinner.

As the meal finished, the adults got up and moved to a different room. "Children, why don't you go play downstairs?" Jane asked. "Hermione, you can show them."

Hermione obliged, leading them to a door. Her cousins ran down the stairs and downstairs, gleefully, leaving her to follow them.

"So, what school do you really go to?" asked Tom.

"A boarding school for special kids," Hermione replied. She lowered her voice. "The name's a secret."

Tom snorted. "Sure. Bet you couldn't remember it, you stuck up know-it-all."

"Funny," Hermione shot back, "they call me that at my school too, even one of the teachers. Then again, everyone hates him."

"Just like you, huh?"

"No, actually," Hermione said coolly. "And the ones that do hate you even more."

Her cousins scoffed at that. "Yeah, right. Even if they knew us, it would be impossible."

Hermione merely smiled unsettlingly.

Bored, the others turned away to amuse themselves. Hermione settled down with her chemistry textbook, wishing it was Arithmancy or Ancient Runes instead. It wasn't like she would return to the Muggle world after graduation, after all.

One hundred and fifty-four pages into the textbook, Hermione felt someone slide in next to her.

"Hello, Aunt Chloe," she said without looking up.

Aunt Chloe laughed. "How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only relative I have who wouldn't 'announce her approach' by plucking the book out of my hands," Hermione replied easily. "I did consider my parents, but they're probably occupied."

_Not to mention you're the only one who would want to sit next to me_, Hermione added in her head.

"So, what school _do_ you go to?" Aunt Chloe asked again.

Hermione winced, and then smoothed out her features. She had never before wished Aunt Chloe would go away, but she hated having to lie to her favorite Aunt. "Well…it's called Poudlard," she said.

"Doesn't that mean Hogwarts in French?"

Oh…right. Aunt Chloe knew French.

"That's the name of the school," Hermione said, looking firmly at her book.

"My…that's a strange name," Aunt Chloe said. "Do you have friends?"

"I made friends with two boys," Hermione said, brightening at the change of subject. "Ron and Harry. They're both great. Ron's a bit tactless and he eats enough for the three of us but somehow stays skinny and is an amazing chess player and a Quidditch fanatic -"

"What's Quidditch?" Aunt Chloe interrupted.

_Oh. No. Sweet Merlin, no._ "It's…a sport we play at Hogwarts," Hermione said truthfully. _Please don't ask me how it's played_, she thought.

"How is it played?" Aunt Chloe asked.

_Damn it. Oops, just cursed._ "Um…well, the rules are a bit weird. There are six balls and six goals, but only three of the balls are used to score goals. One of them is used to end the game, and two of them to cause as much damage as possible. The object of the game is to win."

Aunt Chloe laughed. "Isn't it always?"

"Well, yeah. Harry's pretty good at it, he's on the team. His job is to end the game. He's also always getting into dangerous situations and has a saving-people-thing. He and Ron saved me from a Troll -"

"A _Troll_?"

"That's a grade," Hermione said. "The worst you can get." She shivered at the very thought.

"How is that dangerous?"

"When it's our school," Hermione said darkly. "In one of our classes, one of the boys - Neville - is always blowing things up."

"Chemistry?" Aunt Chloe asked knowingly.

Hermione nodded. "It always pays to know how to save other people's brews. And the ingredients are dangerous and rather exotic. The teacher calls them things like 'newt eyes' and 'dragon's blood'."

"So, you have a fun teacher?"

_Not in the least._ "Uh, yeah. But he's also really strict, for good reason. We use fires and he has to keep the class under control, otherwise…"

"CHLOE!" a voice bellowed from upstairs. "GET UP HERE!"

Both Hermione and Aunt Chloe winced. "Well, I'll get going," she said, jumping nimbly to her feet. "Nice talking to you, Hermione! I'm glad you enjoy your school."

Hermione smiled at her before opening her book again, glad that the Inquisition was over.

"Newt's eyes?" a disparaging voice asked.

_On second thought…maybe not so over._

Hermione looked up to see Tom, flanked by her other cousins. "That's what the teacher calls it."

"Do you have a black cat as well? And a broom?"

"My friend does," Hermione answered seriously. "Not the cat, he has an owl. But yes, he does have a broom. Doesn't your mum?"

Tom scowled at her. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"No, _really_?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"I'll tell Mum that you lied," he said.

"Great," Hermione said in a bored voice. "Did you tell her about Christina too?"

The blood drained out of his face. "How did you know about that?" he whispered.

_Katie told me_. Instead, Hermione said, "I'm a witch, remember?"

Her cousins stepped back rather fearfully, eyeing her like she was about to sprout fangs.

_So that's why Harry enjoyed it so much,_ Hermione realized as she pulled out a polished stick. "Abracadabra, tippily-to," she intoned. "Leave me alone, or I'll make you." _Not the most creative rhymes, but they pass._

Her cousins scattered, much to Hermione's amusement. It was nice to see the positions reversed for once. She picked up her book again, hoping nobody else would disturb her for a good, long while.

The farewells were rather sober on the part of her cousins. Their smirks had disappeared. As she waved goodbye, Hermione wickedly pulled the stick out enough that they could see. One of her cousins gave a squeak and buried her face into Aunt Delia's dress, the woman's confusion. She glared at Hermione, obviously blaming her.

Aunt Chloe was last. She hugged Hermione, and then put her hands on Hermione's shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Goodbye, Hermione. I wish you the best of luck."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. I'll need it."

Aunt Chloe laughed, before leaving. The door closed behind her and suddenly Hermione and her parents were alone in a quiet house.

Robert broke the silence. "Hermione, what did you do?"

"They came to the conclusion that I was a witch themselves," Hermione said innocently, pulling out the polished stick. "All I did was recite random words."

Jane sighed and shook her head. "And managed to terrify them too?"

"Well, I did blackmail Tom," Hermione said after a moment of thought. "I got the ideas from Harry."

"I'm not sure how good an influence those boys are on you," Robert said sternly. Then his frown wobbled, and he smiled. "But I had fun watching it."

Hermione grinned up at her father. "So did I."

* * *

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione shouted. It was two days before the train left. After asking again and again if she was _sure_ that she would be alright all alone - Hermione was currently trying to forget the forlorn looks her parents had had when she pointed out that she was safer than them in this world - Hermione's parents had dropped her off at Diagon Alley for the last few days. And she had found the Weasleys.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed happily. "Have you seen Harry?"

"No," she said. "I just got here though."

"Have you heard the news?" Ron asked. "Harry blew up his aunt!"

"Blew - up?" Hermione asked in shock. Granted, now and then she fantasized about blowing up Aunt Delia, but _someone_ had to be the responsible one.

"Like a balloon," Ron confirmed. "But she didn't pop." He sounded almost sad. "They had to send an Obliviator squad there. I heard her dog was biting off her leg."

Hermione pursed her lips to reign in the laugh. "But Harry's fine, right?"

"He probably got cleared," Ron said. "Come on, he _is_ the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't he?" Hermione heard a small trace of bitterness in his voice, but less than there would have been a year ago.

"What else happened? I heard a rumor you got to go to Eygpt," Hermione said enviously. "Oh wait - you told me that one."

Ron laughed. "It was awesome. Bill told us all about the ancient curses wizards used to put around pyramids. Nutters, they were. And Fred and George tried to stuff Percy into a pyramid when Mum's back was turned. They didn't succeed, unfortunately."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"But did you hear about Sirius Black, the mass-murderer?" Ron asked excitedly. "He escaped from Azkaban!"

"Sirius Black?" Hermione echoed. "He was on the Muggle news too!"

"Yeah, Dad told us about that. Apparently Fudge caught a lot of grief over it."

"So, tell me about Sirius Black."

Obviously relishing the opportunity to teach Hermione Granger something, Ron launched into his explanation. "So, thirteen years ago, Black…"

Well, at least this year wouldn't be boring!

**I am so so sorry for not having updated earlier. The end of the school year is always hectic. But I'm back and I'll be updating quite often over the summer, unless I run out of ideas, and I am getting dry. If you have any, they're very welcome.**


	4. Technology

**Technology**

"You _punched _him?" Hermione's mother asked incredulously, her hand on the dining table.

Hermione sighed, wondering just what had possessed her to tell her parents about that particular incident. "He insulted Hagrid!" she defended herself.

Her father's face split into a wide grin and Hermione relaxed. "So, finally standing up to bullies?"

"Robert!" her mother scolded.

"Anything else happen?" Hermione's dad asked.

"Well…" Hermione hesitated, wondering what to say. "You know that mass-murderer they showed on TV? Sirius Black?"

"The person you said was also a wizard and the reason you were surrounded by soul-sucking creatures for a year?" Robert said, his tone slightly sarcastic.

Hermione winced. She hadn't been sure what to tell her parents, so she had mentioned the dementors in a letter. They had not taken it well. And likely wouldn't take this well either. "Yeah…we discovered he's Harry's godfather."

Silence. And then "You _what_?" Jane asked.

"Discovered Sirius is Harry's godfather," Hermione repeated. "But don't worry, he's innocent." She paused, and then decided to just tell them everything. _In for a penny, in for a pound. _"See, Sirius was one of Harry's dad's best friends, along with Professor Lupin. When the Potters went into hiding, they made him their Secret Keeper to protect their location. But at the last minute, they decided that Sirius was too obvious and switched him for one of his other best friends, Peter Pettigrew. But Pettigrew was secretly a Death Eater and he betrayed them to Voldemort. Sirius was furious and hunted Pettigrew down, letting Hagrid take Harry to Dumbledore. Pettigrew made a whole show of crying and accusing Sirius and then blew the street behind him up. In the chaos, he escaped, Sirius was arrested, and thrown into Azkaban without a trial."

There was a choking sound from her father.

"You discovered Sirius Black, the infamous mass-murderer, also happened to be Harry's _godfather_, but he's innocent, it was one of his other friends that betrayed Harry's parents and killed all those Muggles, framing Black, who didn't receive a trial," Jane said faintly after a moment.

"That - that sounds about right," Hermione answered.

"And how did you find this out?" asked Robert, regaining his voice.

"Oh…Peter was Ron's rat."

Silence again.

"What?" Robert choked out.

"Pettigrew was an Animagus, which means he could transform into a certain kind of animal," Hermione said helpfully.

"And he pretended to be your friend Ron's rat?" Jane asked.

Hermione nodded. "Well, first it was Percy's, but you get the point. He wanted to keep an eye out for news of You-Know-Who rising."

"Who?" Robert said.

"The evil Dark Lord that orphaned Harry," Jane reminded him. To Hermione she said, "I'm very glad your other years haven't been this eventful," shutting down the conversation as she usually did when uncomfortable.

Hermione winced, but it went unnoticed. "So, what happened on your end?"

Hermione's dad looked very relieved at the change of subject. "The new WWW thing is great!" he enthused. "Hermione, you'll love it. It's still really new but I'm sure, especially at the rate it's expanding, that in a few years it'll be amazing!"

Hermione smiled a little sadly. "I guess you'll have to tell me all about it then, Dad. And invite me over to see exactly how it changes."

The smile froze on Robert's face. "Right…you'll be gone by then. Can't you - can't you return to our world? I'm sure you could catch up academically."

Hermione took her father's hands in hers. Looking him in the eye she said gently, "Dad, I love you and Mum very very much, but I'm a witch now." And that sort of summed it up.

"But Hermione, you're missing the best of technological advancement!" her father protested. "Everything's happening at once, and it's happening _now_. Computers get better and faster each year, new software is being developed constantly, every year brings a revolution. And now there's the Internet, and it's expanding at a rate nobody can keep up with. Pretty soon _everything_ will be computerized and _libraries_ will be stored on the computer. I hear they're proposing an online encyclopedia. Everything will be a click away."

It was tempting, so very temping, and Hermione's library-loving-self ached for that chance even as she knew she would miss books. And it would probably be so much better organized than the Hogwarts' books that lacked an index even. But then there was _Ron_, and _Harry_, and just _couldn't_ leave the world of magic, no matter how close the Muggle world was getting to it. Her eyes stung with tears but she looked away from her dad and said, "I'm sorry, but I _can't_. Maybe…" she choked a little, "maybe one day we'll be discovered and I'll be able to come back." If that happened, they would probably have worse problems, but she could always hope.

"You probably will be," he pointed out, practicality returning. "From what you said, Notice-Me-Not Charms only work within their field and so _someone _is going to realize that these 'abandoned' castles are giving off far more infrared rays than they would be. "And with the Internet the Obliviators won't be able to _get_ there quickly enough before everyone knows about what was seen. And who wants to bet that your government can't use our technology well enough to delete anything?"

The probability of discovery made Hermione's breath catch. Wizards didn't _realize_ the dangers, they were so stuck up thinking they had magic and Muggles didn't and they were oh-so-superior but the danger was _there_ and it was, really, only a matter of time. "Merlin…" she whispered.

"Enough," Jane said firmly. "The future's the future and we can worry about it later, but discussing just how imminent the danger is won't help us now. And Robert, stop tempting the girl. She's made her decision and -" she looked at Hermione with sad, but understanding eyes, "she can't change it now."

Hermione let go of her father's hands and stood. "I'll go unpack now."

She ran up the stairs to her room, her legs complaining after being spoiled for so long by magical, moving staircases, but it gave her some way to work off her excess energy. Dusk had fallen and so she turned on the lights, flipping the switch to turn on the electricity in her room.

The first year she had first been wrapped up in the miseries of being ignored and lonely. By the time she was over the shock of befriending Harry and Ron they were swept up in the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone. And maybe, _maybe_, if she admitted it to herself, part of her obsessive studying was to forget that she missed her parents, missed electricity, missed _typing_. Then the second year she had, again, been nearly instantly too busy to think about such things, and then she had been petrified, and so there really had been no time.

But not this year. This year, compared to the rest, had been positively _relaxing_. Nothing to worry about a psychotic mass-murderer after Harry's head and the soul-and-happiness-sucking guards that were trying to catch him. And Ron had temporarily abandoned her, furious over Crookshanks "eating" Scabbers, leaving her plenty of time to brood, plenty of time to miss her parents so much that her heart ached, plenty of time to miss the almost obsessively healthy food they put on the plate. And most of all, plenty of time to develop a new appreciation for Muggle technology.

Oh, sure, they couldn't summon things or floo to long distances in a second. They didn't have portraits that moved and talked or ghosts, real, live ghosts floating through the halls. They didn't have doors that refused to open unless you asked politely. But they had _lights_, electric lights that could turn night into day, if rather yellow day, rather than dim torches, and air conditioning, with its almost refreshing, crisp smell, and heaters, that dried the air above. She would exchange all the heating and cooling charms for an AC system in a heartbeat, and not only because air circulation was better with them. It just wasn't the same. And maybe she liked _Scourgify_ and _Reparo_, but she couldn't help missing vacuum cleaners and hair dryers and the clean, fluffy look of newly cleaned carpet.

And worst of all, they didn't even _have_ a replacement for computers. Hermione had never been obsessed with video games or movies, preferring a good book, but she enjoyed them every once in a while and it was worse now that they simply didn't have the option. And typing was great, so much faster than writing with a quill. So many good things about the Wizarding world came from Muggles - the Hogwarts Express, the Knight bus, the radio, and yet so much was repressed by purebloods! Computerized spreadsheets for organization had been Hermione's delight, and returning to homework planners had been a real bummer. She couldn't wait until she could actually enchant them. And since she didn't have an owl, communication was that much harder. Granted, Muggles couldn't do it faster, but with the Internet thing that was being developed, maybe in a few decades there would be instant communication!

Maybe that was the thing. The Muggle world was constantly growing, constantly changing, and doing it really quickly too. The last major invention of the Wizarding world had been the Wolfsbane potion about 20 years ago. Muggles could already destroy the world seven times over and then escape to the moon, though they couldn't survive on it yet. Most wizards dismissed space-travel as impossible and surgeons as "Muggle nutters that cut people up". That's why _Muggles_ could clone (sort of) and why _they_ knew more about the human body than wizards ever would. Did the wizarding world even have research groups? Possibly the Department of Mysteries was one…not that anyone ever heard anything from them.

Hermione finished unpacking and then pulled out one of her notepads - another thing: Muggles had _so_ many more things to help you organize - and began compiling a list of things wizards had that Muggles didn't and vice-versa, as well as the things both cultures had. The Muggle list was getting much longer than the wizard one very quickly, though most things were shared, like tape, though Hermione had to admit that magic combined with technology was a very good combination. She was trying to figure out if she had ever seen a magnet in the Wizarding world when her mum called her down for dinner.

"Hermione," her dad said when she entered.

"Dad?"

"I've been thinking about what you said…he didn't get a _trial_?"

Hermione nodded. "We have a pretty corrupt government," she revealed. "And besides, it was war-time, and he was so _obviously_ guilty."

"Innocent until proven guilty," Jane said tightly. "Hermione, if you want, we'll get you out of Hogwarts and into some Muggle school in a heartbeat."

"No!" Hermione protested instantly. "Please don't!"

"Are you sure?" Robert said, looking at her with worried eyes. "We know that there's prejudice against Muggleborns and…"

"It's fine, dad, I'm sure! I have friends there and I love magic and…"

"Let it go, Robert," Jane told him. "Hermione, your teeth -"

"Mum, I don't want braces!" Hermione protested instantly.

"Do you want bad teeth all your life?" Jane demanded.

"Of course not, but I can get them magically corrected."

Hermione's mum pursed her lips and Robert stepped in. "Hermione, you know your mother and I don't believe in mixing magic and teeth."

"Why not?" Hermione demanded. "They live even longer than Muggles; it's only natural that they would know even more than Muggle dentists." She abruptly realized that her parents were Muggles and dentists and she reddened. "Well, it's true."

Jane's tone softened, though she remained adamant. "Please, Hermione, just do this one thing for us."

"It doesn't make sense, though," Hermione protested helplessly. "Why should I go through that when it can be spelled away?"

Her parents just looked at her and Hermione sighed. "Can we…can we wait, at least?"

"Of course, Hermione," Jane said.

They didn't touch any dangerous subjects for the rest of dinner.

* * *

"Hermione," her father said one day.

Wondering if he was going to bug her again about returning to the Muggle world or getting braces (and knowing she would say no), Hermione walked to him. "Dad?"

Instead of doing any of the above things, Robert took a well-worn book that had obviously been read many times. Hermione took it silently, read the title, and gasped. "Dad, Quantum Physics? You've never let me read anything about it before!" She hesitated before plunging on. "I thought - I thought I wouldn't ever know enough physics to -"

Robert laughed. "It isn't about the physics. You've always been smart enough to understand this, Hermione. I was afraid that you wouldn't be able to _take_ it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "You sound like it would drive me insane."

"It was a real concern," Robert admitted. "Read it, you'll understand why."

"Why don't you think it'll drive me mad anymore?"

"Because you don't believe in authority with such a deep conviction anymore," Robert answered simply. "This concept will shatter your notions of physics and the world and even logic. But so did magic, and you survived. And I'm sure you've done plenty that doesn't make sense by now."

_You have no idea_, Hermione thought wryly as she walked upstairs. What with time-turners and diaries possessing people and languages you could be born into, this couldn't be _that_ mind-boggling.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the book to the first page.

Three hours later Hermione was ready to _destroy_ the book. It had _seemed_ simple, except, of course, for the fact that it made absolutely no sense at all. How could anything behave both as a particle and a wave? How could it _possibly_ be impossible to measure both the speed and location of something? It just didn't make bloody SENSE!

And yet the calculations added up. Hermione was even more certain that she wanted to remain in the Wizarding world. At least magic had _some_ logic. This…she could see why it might drive her insane.

She wanted to blame her dad for showing her the books. It would be so easy to blame him. But unfortunately, she was logical, unlike _some_ things she could mention. So she didn't.

But that day was probably the one that turned her away from the Muggle world.

**I didn't mean to be so late! But I'm doing a competition on the side of this, and I couldn't think of any ideas, which is also why this is really short. Sorry!**


End file.
